


follow me down (into the rabbit hole)

by wintervioleteye (hawkguyed)



Category: Casino Royale (2006), James Bond (Craig movies), Silent Hill, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: And Then Some, Basically Bond is a huge magnet for all this shit, Crossover, Gen, James Bond/angst, Lake Como features, Look at all the demons he has, M/M, Silent Hill meets James Bond, Sort of an AU, and Q is going to have to get him out, and no Bond's Silent Hill is in Lake Como, because reasons, this is a crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkguyed/pseuds/wintervioleteye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once is a glitch. </p><p>Three times in a row is just a challenge.</p><p>(Or, Bond sometimes needs more than just a gun and a radio to face his demons. And he has a lot of demons, all waiting for him, in Silent Hill.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quartermaster

**Author's Note:**

> Okay the warning for violence is put in place because the idea was going to get extremely violent and I just. Well, better the devil you know than the devil you don't. 
> 
> Silent Hill/Skyfall crossover, because, well, reasons is a valid answer and I just like extolling on James' demons, of which he has a /LOT/.

The radio crackles, a hiss of static before it dissipates into nothing. There is no accompanying pop, the usual sound when Bond does something to utterly destroy the radio, not this time. Instead the sound just fades off, swallowed by whatever deep, dark hole that Bond may have thrown it into this time. 

Miles away, Q swears, a litany of words in a tamped down aggression that has the entire of his branch staring at him in mixed amusement and shock. 

Well. Q does admit he can be a tad foul-mouthed at times, under that prim and proper exterior. Usually when Bond has him pinned down against silk sheets and resolutely denying him his release. Mostly. 

The younger man shakes his head to clear it. This is no time for his mind to be conjuring up images like these. 

Fingers fly over the keyboard, activating a second set of protocols in an attempt to trace the location of Bond’s locator. He had put this in after the fifth or sixth time James decided to simply switch it off, after all MI6 couldn’t just let their best agent disappear off the grid. 

But no matter how many times he pings the comm unit, the silence does not answer. 

There’s a morbid part of the Quartermaster that murmurs, dead man tell no tales. But then again, Bond is just about as resilient (and sometimes as infuriating) as a bloody cockroach, and the so-called reports of his demise sometimes tend to be greatly exaggerated. 

Usually. 

Q thinks that he might keep trying. 

\-- 

A week passes. 

Then two. 

Hope fades. 

The cogs of MI6 continue to turn as they always have, the loss of a single agent nothing new to them whose daily lives revolve around a tripartite of death, destruction and damage. To compound things, it isn’t as if this one particular agent hasn’t gone missing before, Bond’s exploits are notoriously famous ever since that four month stunt in Turkey after Eve had put a bullet through his right shoulder. 

Q gets told to move along. Agents die all the time, he’s told. Mallory gives him that pointed look and hands him a brand new file. And to his credit, Q tries. But the thing many people forget is that Bond is (was) a force of nature that had carved a path intersecting Q’s, the marks invisible but permanent.

Death is truly a statistic, for them. 

They all pretend the paperwork for the apartment sale is misplaced (two files under the red one, locked away in Eve’s drawer), and that one gun that always sits there, maintained even though the one other person who can wield it isn’t in MI6 at all. 

Life moves along, slow and plodding. 

No-one says it, but Bond had brought a certain spark that is now gone with the man himself. 

Then the first ‘message’ comes, a series of meaningless clicks heard over a frequency that is supposed to be dead. It plays like a loop, a haunting series that makes no sense to the genius poring over wavelengths. 

Q thinks it’s an encryption, a cipher locked somewhere. Bond did tend to come up with interesting improvisations, after all, and perhaps this is a last-ditch attempt for communication. With that double-0 agent, it’s usually quite hard to tell what’s on his mind. 

On his workstation, the wavelength issues another series of clicks.

It frustrates him, the inability to decipher it, a stark reminder that somehow that infuriating blond agent isn’t as much of a technological idiot as he lets the entirety of Q-branch believe. 

Another one arrives, a day later. 

And another. 

How it arrives is a bloody mystery, the information packets merely appear without so much as a data trail through the vastness of cyberspace. If Q were any more superstitious (which he isn’t), he would have probably believed the work of preternatural creatures or a computer glitch. 

He opens it anyway. 

It repeats the same series of clicks.

Once is a glitch. 

Three times in a row is just a challenge. 

He has to crack this. 

Q plays it backwards. Forwards, then backwards, and forwards again. He sends it through a cipher, but turns up nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

The frustration grows, gnawing at him through the haze of his daily work. Codes are written in the day to the sound of a room full of keyboards, but even then all he can hear is the ticking in his head, a not-quite rhythm that mocks him and seems to have permeated every facet of his work.

Then it hits him. 

Bond was sure to have used something he was familiar with, something that everyone (including Q) would have been arrogant enough to overlook. Seven notes in the musical scale (no, not that. Bond had never been one for music) and twenty six letters in the alphabet. 

Cipher. 

He needs a cipher. 

Think, Q berates himself. Bond is surprisingly resourceful, and sometimes utilizes the simplest of methods to obfuscate his intentions. 

“Come on, double-0 seven. What were you-” 

Seven. 

The simplicity of it nearly makes Q reel. 

The program is simple, and Q codes it as quickly as he dares, fingers dancing across the keyboard. It’s a decryption program that will run any possible permutation utilizing those 26 alphabets. Given more time, he could probably refine it, but right now these beeps are the only clue Q has to the missing double-0. 

It returns an answer within minutes, one neat line printed across the stark white of his screen. 

Q knows where Bond is. 

_Silent Hill. 46.0000N, 9.2667E._


	2. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James falls.

She is a pale ghost, a fragment of a memory buried somewhere under a sinking house, the crimson of her dress long since muted and cold. This is not how he wants to remember her, not the pallid shade of the woman she had once been, but this is how she haunts him, a chill at the edge of his awareness.

James doesn’t remember her name.

Her -

_Vesper_

\- fingers are claws on his, dragging him down. Down through the water, into the murky depths of his own nightmares.

She isn’t the only one.

 

James doesn’t - can’t - remember all their names.

 

He sometimes sees him too, a mangled hint of blond hair -

_Alec_

\- and blue eyes that could match his own, or bloodstained silver. People he had loved. Hated. Tried to save. Failed to save.

There are too many fragments, shattered bits of James’ battered psyche that populate the darkness. It had been too close after Skyfall, the cracks in him that had not quite healed over enough to support the weight of Bond’s exhaustion, and James had fallen.

Fallen clear into the abyss, tumbled headfirst into darkness, and Silent Hill had welcomed him.

James Bond has nightmares, enough nightmares to populate empty streets and broken cliffs, algae-tinged water with ghouls lurking beneath the surface, enough nightmares to keep the broken man firmly buried with all of his demons.

Silent Hill has James Bond now, and it isn’t about to let him go.


End file.
